


An Unexpected Find

by lockedin221b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Intercrural Sex, John's Red Pants, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedin221b/pseuds/lockedin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John discovers a striking pair of pants when doing the wash, and his libido runs wild.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Find

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pennswoods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennswoods/gifts).



> After some months since I first instigated the Red Pants Monday tradition, I finally wrote a red pants fic.
> 
> For Penns, who enthusiastically replied "Do it!" when I posted the vague concept for this story on tumblr. And who is quite the red pants enthusiast.
> 
> I may or may not have written this at 2AM on my phone.

It wasn't as if John has never handled Sherlock's washing before. Even before they became a couple, John would occasionally gather the tees, socks, trousers, and even pants Sherlock would leave strewn about the bathroom and toss them in the wash. But his pants usually consisted of cotton or silky boxer shorts in various shades of white, black, and grey, with the occasional navy blue. John had never seen the pair of bright red y-fronts.

After confusion, John reacted very stupidly. His mind conjured up thoughts of another man, that Sherlock was having an affair, and his hand curled into a tight fist on the waistband of the pants.

But he promptly rethought that possibility and berated himself. Sherlock might have been far from typical in just about every aspect of his life, but he would never be unfaithful to John. And this wasn't naive thinking, John knew that much.

So that left two options: Sherlock had purchased the pants for god knew what kind of experiment, or the more surreal idea that they were in fact Sherlock's pants. And somehow John had never seen them before.

He tossed them in the wash and went back upstairs to his blog, thinking he'd simply ask Sherlock about he when he came home from Bart's. They'd had far more peculiar conversations.

But after they'd gone through the dryer, and John was in the bedroom putting away the load of clean clothes, he hesitated over the pants. He held them in his hand and rubbed his thumb over the cotton. They felt particularly soft. An image of Sherlock wearing them—and nothing but—crept into John's head. He licked his lips and promptly pushed it away. He had things to do; the middle of the afternoon was not the time for fantasies. He put the rest of the clothes away and went back to his blog.

Despite his earlier resolve, his mind refused to let go of the image of the pants. On Sherlock. Pushed down. Around his ankles. It was ridiculous and John knew it, but he couldn't be arsed to completely chide himself away from the images and scenarios flitting across his mind.

He finally gave in to his libido and went to the bedroom to retrieve the pants. He sat on the edge of the bed, undid his trousers, and stuffed his hand into his shorts. With a hand around his cock, the red pants bunched in the other, he closed his eyes and finally released what loose reins he'd managed to put on his mind over the last few hours.

Wild images ran freely across the back of his eyelids as he stroked himself hard. He came with a groan to the image of his own mouth on Sherlocks's red-clothed erection, imagining the well-known taste of pre-ejaculate as it leaked through the fabric.

His hand was around the shaft rather than the head when he came, so his own pants were a hopeless mess. He cleaned up in the bathroom, but instead of getting a pair of fresh pants, he impulsively pulled on the red ones. They stretched more around his wider hips and arse, but the snug fit of the soft fabric was comfortable.

John was cleaning up the kitchen, at least as much as he could without disturbing the ongoing experiments, when Sherlock came home. He didn't so much as bat an eye when Sherlock walked and and they exchanged hellos. That didn't stop the consulting detective from looking him over in a way that told John he was deducing something, though who knew what. John had made sure to carefully tuck his shirt in when redressing.

"Really, John," Sherlock said with a little smirk. He moved across the kitchen and settled his hands on John's hips. "Couldn't even wait until I got home?"

John leaned up and kissed him. "What can I say? I was writing up that last case, and I couldn't stand the thought of you soaked through from that flash downpour." In truth, one his fleeting fantasies had been a sopping wet Sherlock in a now see through white shirt and red pants dark with water.

Sherlock pulled their waists closer together. "Mm, that was a fun night, wasn't it?" He ran a hand through John's hair. "I'm having a similar reaction now that I'm thinking of you all wet."

John grinned. "Is that so?"

Sherlock nodded. "Should we dispense with tea altogether?"

John took Sherlock's wrist and checked his watch without actually noting the time. "Oh, it's still early. I'm sure we can get a takeaway later."

"Good." Sherlock lowered his mouth onto John's, sucking his lip into his mouth and between his teeth.

John rocked forward into him, moaning softly.

They made it to the bedroom and had shucked their shirts before Sherlock paused. He had just slipped his fingers under the waist of John's trousers. He broke away from the present snog and undid John's trousers with a rather mechanical efficiency. He stared at the bright red beneath the denim, probably not much noticing the erection pressing from within at that moment.

John bit his lip when Sherlock finally looked up and met his gaze.

"They were for an experiment," Sherlock explained. John had long since trained him not to rattle off the details of his experiments unless asked for specifics.

In the middle of this, he didn't care about specifics. "Oh. Sorry."

Sherlock looked back down at the pants. He brushed his fingertips lightly along John's hardening prick and John shuddered. "Is this what you were really fantasising about when you tossed off this afternoon?"

John swallowed. "Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"You. In them. A bit."

Sherlock pressed his thumb against the head, feeling for the slit.

John closed his eyes and pressed his hips forward.

"They suit you much better."

John's eyes snapped open. Sherlock was gazing at him with John's favourite smile. Experiment ruined, or at least postponed until new pants were purchased, but all was forgiven.

Sherlock pushed John onto the bed and pulled his trousers down to his ankles. He knelt and buried his face between John's thighs, hot mouth pressed open against the stretched fabric. John braced his hands on the mattress behind him and spread his legs wider. Sherlock licked up the fabric, and the dampened sensation was maddening. He gripped one of John's legs below the knee and gripped the opposite thigh with the other, tracing circles on the inside with his thumb. All the while he licked and sucked and panted against John's shaft through the cotton. It was new and brilliant and drove John mad.

He didn't notice the hand slipping away from his thigh until those long violinist fingers slipped into the y-front. With quick dexterity he pulled John's fully erect cock out through the hole. The imbalanced pressure around the hilt made him groan, as did the tongue now sweeping directly against his skin and the lips wrapped briefly around the head of his prick for a few blissful sucks.

Sherlock stood long enough to kick off his shoes and trousers and shorts. He pushed John farther back on the bed and climbed on top of him. While he reached over to the nightstand, John snaked his hand between them and pulled at Sherlock's cock. Sherlock moaned and shuddered and stilled for a moment. Then he retrieved the lube and went back to John's prick. He slicked it, mixing lube and pre-ejaculate. He shimmied up and positioned John's prick just below his own, shifting down so it pressed against his bollocks.

John rocked his hips up, tilting his head back with a groan. Sherlock's mouth found his throat as he squeezed his thighs around John's cock and rolled his hips into John, his own erection sandwiched between their stomachs.

John folded his arms around Sherlock, digging his fingers into his shoulder blades as he thrust up between Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock squeezed his legs perfectly around his cock, and their rhythms blended together and quickened.

John threaded his fingers into Sherlock's curls and pulled his mouth up into a rough openmouthed kiss. The pressure and heat within and around his cock skyrocketed and, hips jerking erratically, cry ripping out of his throat and into Sherlock's mouth, he came between Sherlock's thighs.

But Sherlock didn't stop. He rode out John's orgasm and sped into his own, rutting his cock against John's stomach with his own pressing down over it until he came across both. John bit Sherlock's lip and thrust into his orgasm, producing a loud whimper from the man on top of him.

Sherlock's thighs loosened and he settled on John as dead weight. Eventually he hummed, the sound reverberating from his chest and into John's. He spoke lazily with a vague slur, "Yes, the pants most definitely suit you."

John chuckled and kissed Sherlock's shoulder. "I'd still like to see them on you sometime."

"Perhaps." Sherlock turned his face to rub his nose against John's cheek. "In any event, there's no chance of successfully conducting my experiment now."

John combed his fingers through the slightly sweat-damped curls. "Oh? Why not?"

"I won't possibly be able to concentrate with this lovely memory in mind now."

John closed his eyes and smiled. "Sorry. I'm sure we can come up with some experiments of our own, though."

Sherlock purred against his neck. "I do hope so. It's the least you could do after ruining a perfectly good experiment for me."


End file.
